A Change Long Awaited
by HitodeDaikazoku
Summary: A story about the Dolorosa and how she found and took care of the Sufferer. AU, because the characters are vaguely human. Better explanation as to why inside.
1. Chapter 1

**I initially wrote this for an assignment in my English class, which was to use all the SAT vocabulary words from our most recent list in a story. It got blown completely out of proportion, and became this.**

**I said this was an AU because I changed the way the social classes worked (they resemble human medieval social classes in this) and I did not mention the mother grub at all. It is assumed that troll reproduction in this story works the same way as in humans, so as not to copy the comic completely when it was used in class, as well as to not confuse myself or any non-Homestuck who was to read it.**

To the Disciple:

I hope this finds you alive. I know full well this writing is forbidden, but it must be done.

If I were to keep this, it would not survive. I fear it would be found when I die, for surely I am to be killed soon. I feel as if a shadow lurks over my existence, toying with my mind until I forget it is there, only to snatch me up in the end.

This writing tells all I know of our people, as well as my life whilst raising the Signless. Record it how you will, I wish for it to live on past my impending death.

With hope,

The Dolorosa


	2. Chapter 2

**A Change Long Awaited**

In a time long lost, the known world was but a speck, and even that which was there was inscrutable to the people who were alive. They knew of only themselves: their place in society, their property, their life. They knew not of each other, the gap of difference between each social class was truly gargantuan in size. So much so, in fact, that it seemed impossible to breach.

That is, until one person dared to denounce the social rank system.

But first, a bit on what the caste system was like, and what allowed such a thing as insurrection to occur.

One's rank in society was determined by blood. And when I say "blood" I do in fact mean blood. We are not like humans, whose blood is all the same. If we were, there would be less need for me to write. Our pride, and consequently our prejudice, lies in the color of our blood.

What is meant by this statement is that one's genetics mandated one's rank. It was unchangeable and non-negotiable. Everyone knew each other's blood colors, for it was law to wear clothing the color of your blood, as well as the fact that everyone's eyes were that same color.

The royalty consisted of those whose families resided by the sea. It was they who held all power, omniscient, higher people to be both praised and feared. The highest of the royals were blessed with fuchsia blood, it was they who ruled, and their advisers had violet blood.

The nobility, who lived in mansions circling the grand palaces of the royalty, were even more formidable, despite having less power. Nobles have blood that ranges from indigo to teal. Their numbers were greater than the royalty, and they were immensely more involved in the daily happenings in the towns. The noble-blooded were the ones who held trials and punished people for crimes, but only after consulting with the royal-blooded first. Some nobles, especially those with blood of a more cerulean hue, abhorred the idea of tedious law enforcing. They preferred to further their avarice and egos through "privateering", a polite term for piracy.

Only royalty and nobility had the privilege of lineage. It was very rare for royal or noble families to have a child that did not possess the same or similar blood color as the rest of the family. Whether this was because royal colored blood is a dominant gene, or simply because any child born with blood ranking less than at least nobility was discreetly disposed of was not known to the general public.

Another privilege held for the highbloods was the privilege of names. Since nobles and royals became such through lineage as well as blood, they had surnames passed down through generations, and first names given to them by their true parents.

The common folk were any who lived inland, and their blood ranged from olive to burgundy. They did not have the right to family, at least, not in the same way as the higher classes. The lower classes do not know their lineage. They were grouped into families with all the same color blood, meaning their families were all the same rank. They also gained names through physical appearances, habits, or their occupations. This unwritten law applies to me, as well.

Nevertheless, it was they who made up society's foundation.

Olive bloods were merchants and artisans, selling what they made and what they obtained from the cerulean-blooded pirates.

Ochre bloods, or the more mundane: mustard bloods, as they were known to nobility, were messengers. Any news one hoped to receive, be it from the palaces along the sea, or from a friend in a neighboring town, one must simply find a Messenger, and they shall tell what must be known.

Umber bloods were farmers, raising the city's produce and livestock.

The final class is that of the burgundy bloods who were historians. Anything that needed to be remembered was left to them.

Despite their importance, all of the common folk had little money. Buying lavishly was left to the nobles, who in turn sold the same wares to the royals. Consequently, money perpetually circulated between the upper classes alone. This is why they were poor. And this, too, is why I write.

Lowbloods, as they were known, were always expected to act with humility towards nobles and royals. They were superior beings, after all; it was right and just to remain silent and grovel. Though, one may wish to lash out with an unctuous reply to a demand; to croon with the honeyed words of a sycophant, "Your wish is my command, _as always_, your Highness." Of course, to really do so would mean death.

There existed one last caste. This caste consisted of very few people, and it was a sin to acknowledge anyone who was a part of it. This is a sin I have committed. This and many more.

With no further ado, I shall introduce myself. I am known to some as The Dolorosa. Such a name was given to me later in my life. It is the only name I can recall, however, so it shall be the name I am known by, even after I am gone from this place.

My place in society was precariously perched in between that of the frowzy and impoverished commoners and the impeccably well-dressed nobles. It was a place of honor, for only I and every other woman with jade colored blood were given this job that gave commoners status.

My job was to care for the children of the royal families. I excelled at this, of course, looking after others and being magnanimous enough to care to, happened to be a métierI share with my predecessors.

Royalty hardly had any time to watch out for or so much as feed, not to mention look at, their own children. They had many more important things to do, such as traipse about the sea in search of treasure, or lounge in their palaces lethargically, oblivious to the outside as well as their own offspring.

It was while doing my job that I encountered one of the cursed ones. Among the new children sent to my chambers in one of the palaces, all plump and healthy babies with the privileged light of royalty in their eyes, was a single misfit.

Recall how I said royalty kept their own children because they were nearly always of the same blood, and that there were not any with lower blood? I had always believed it to be true, but I was proved wrong.

The child was indeed royalty, as indicated by the purple blanket he was wrapped in, but it was clear when he opened his eyes what he truly was. There was no light in his eyes, save for the glimmer of candles on marble walls reflected in them. But there was one clear attribute in them that was so different than all the others. While the royal children's eyes were the whole gamut of colors ranging from violet and amethyst to fuchsia, this one's eyes alone stood out.

This child's eyes were red.

This is the mutation and curse that burdens all of the lowest class: the Accursed, whose bright red blood was easily distinguishable from all the others.

Looking into this cursed child's crimson eyes, eyes of a boy that would never see his true parents, or taste the decadence that ought to have been his birthright, I knew my seemingly normal life was about to end. Or, at least, start anew.

Unaware of what should be done about lesser-blooded royal children, and unwilling to comply with what would surely be a cruel and unjust solution, I did the only thing I could think to do.

I took the child into my care, and kept him safe in my own small wing of the palace.

Not only did I look after infants, but also small children who were likely to cause trouble otherwise. One such child happened to be the son of an archduke from a powerful family of violet bloods, despite not being in line for the throne.

I shall refer to this child as the Nuisance, instead of by his name (which, I regret to say, I have forgotten over time), which may seem cruel, but that is truly what he was. The silly gadfly would often run about my chambers in extravagant costumes I made for him upon his behest. His attitude towards me would constantly fluctuate between begging for my attention and harrying me with inane questions on obscure topics he had little interest in purely to annoy me. The grandiloquent boy especially loved using complicated words he knew little of in an attempt to sound bright. He needn't have used such tactics; I knew all along he was as clever as a pompous archduke's son could possibly be.

When I could spare the time, which was often, so long as I had supplied the Nuisance with enough toys and books and puzzles to keep him perplexed for a while, I would go to my chambers and care for the red-eyed child. For a long time, I did not give the child a name. At first, I believed it to be because he was a mutant child, and that calling him the Accursed One would be an even more heinous scar on his life than his curse itself. Eventually, it occurred to me that I just didn't know what he ought to be called; all I could see when he was a baby was the fact that he was different.

This fact became ever more apparent, in other ways, as he grew older. Once he learned how to talk, I taught him about society. I taught him all I have written here about the social castes, and how he came to be with me. I promised myself I would not lie to him, even if it would only bring him pain. He deserved to know what he was, so that he could one day learn who he was meant to be.


	3. Chapter 3

At the same time, I spent less and less time in the main chambers of the palace, ultimately running away from the life I once had all together, moving to a hovel on the fringes of the city. The Nuisance would not miss me. He would act the same towards the new caretaker he would surely be granted as he always did to me.

It was during this time that I learned something strange about this child. Each night when he slept, he dreamt of a different world, one where people are equal and the castes and royals meant next to nothing. It was clear to me that these visions were no doubt connected with his social status, and thus entwined into my own.

I knew I must give him a name. Pondering on this thought awhile, I wondered what words describe him. I needed words not about his appearance, or his blood, but about his intrepid heart, so ready to give, despite all odds against him.

The Redeemer.

No matter what may have been told by others after me, I was the first to believe he was born to rid the world of the scourge that was the oppressive upper classes.

But this is all that is necessary on the subject of his early life. Though I would love to reminisce about a past long gone, that was never my intention in writing this. It is time to reveal the circumstances that led to his death.

He traveled around the cities and villages, hiding his curse beneath a cloak of black and not the bright red his kind were forced to wear, he delivered great speeches of hope to the oppressed people. He spoke of how he dreamt that one day, each person could greet each other as friend or spite each other as foe freely, without the limitations of the social ranking system currently in place. He told of how, in another time far in the future, this was the case. He recalled how the world benefited immensely from this, and the people were prosperous. Inevitably, word of his hatred of castes spread until it trickled to whispers in the court of the Baroness, the ruler of the land. It was the elegant, yet emotionally sere Baroness herself who insisted he was a threat to her, and it was she who sent the Executor, a blue blooded man, to find the Redeemer, who had come to be known throughout the land as the Signless: he who refused to wear his blood color.

The Signless was finally impounded by the Executor, and sentenced to death. Instead of the quick death usually granted to criminals, the Signless gained a new name from the slow death he was subject to: the Sufferer.

By the time the day he was to be executed came, the Sufferer had a vast following of peasants and hidden Accursed Ones, who longed for freedom. Even after his death, it would soon be clear that the seed of insurrection he planted in the hearts of the poor would be much more difficult to oust than the one who had sown it.

It was on the day he died that I gained the name I shall one day die with. As he was about to die, he spoke his final harangue: one of pent-up hatred finally able to be released. What shall stay with me for the rest of my days, however, is the expression he wore on his face just as the life drained out of him. From the view I had, I thought he was grimacing in pain at his death and in disgust at his own hatred.

It is only in retrospect that it eventually occurred to me that what appeared to be a grimace in my tear-stained eyes was really a small smile. A smile that was proud, and glad to leave the world knowing that the person who now smiled had helped to change it.


End file.
